Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, only this plot and the Punchline you've all been waiting for.

Chapter Twelve: Bruce

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP.

It's morning. And that clock needs to die.

BEEPBEEPBEEP—

I slam my fist down on the snooze button, making it finally shut up. I sit up in bed and greet the buildings of Gotham outside. They glitter like priceless gems in the morning sunlight.

I activate the intercom.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Could you turn on the shower for me?"

"Of course, sir. I'm guessing you had a rough night?"

"…Not as rough as usual." I stretch, welcoming the fluid feel of my movements.

"I'm glad for the change, sir. You're still bloody awful at taking care of yourself."

"I'm working on it."

Alfred chuckles and cancels the connection. I perform my usual 50 push-ups and 50s sit-ups before heading to the bathroom. My body still feels as fluid as it did last night. There's no creaking, straining, or hesitation. Just simple, crisp movement.

In the back of my mind, I feel that this isn't going to be a normal Saturday.

I check "Batman's" cell phone. There's a message from Gordon.

we found the men you caught mins. after you left. sorry for not keeping you posted.

I type out a reply to the effect of "It's no trouble. What happened?" and wait for a reply.

It arrives quickly: they stood trial. prison life is going to be hard on them, now that they're blind.

I feel my insides grow cold. I had given Joker's so-called "fish" the medicine they needed to stay alive…but I've learned the hard way that I can't save everyone.

The more important question is: were all of them guilty?

I text my question to Gordon. The reply is simple, almost curious: yes, of course.

So…Batman goes to catch ten "fishies". They are poisoned. Batman claims half are guilty, the others innocent, and gives each of them the same amount of medicine. He lets Gordon take care of the rest. A few days later…they're all found guilty.

Some punchline.

--

I take a shower, check the news, eat breakfast, check the news, read more of The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler, and check the news.

I dress for a quiet Saturday—white-collar shirt and brown pants. Simple, comfortable, and effective.

For a brief moment I wonder what Joker wears on his days off. A Hawaiian shirt unexpectedly comes to mind, and I wince at the mental burst of color.

He would love that. No need for guns or knives when you can make people crazy from going colorblind. What a joke that would be…

"Do you plan on going out, sir?" Alfred asks as he polishes the silverware. His expression is as shrewd as ever, and I find myself grinning at the familiarity of it all.

"Yes, of course."

Alfred raises an eyebrow. "…In the daylight, sir?"

I laugh. "Sure, Alfred. Want to come along? It's a nice day."

Alfred glances around the dining room. "Who will guard the house, then?"

"We won't be gone long."

"All right, then. I'll get my coat."

An ominous news report from the other room catches my ear.

"We just received a recording from the man known as 'The Joker' for the first time in a long time. It appears he has yet another hostage…"

I rush to the TV, Alfred close behind me.

As soon as the film starts playing, all my worst fears are confirmed.

A man is sitting in a chair in a brightly lit room, his face a bloodied mess—but I can see the tattoo of a skull on his cheek. His hair is the color of clotted blood, but it was blond once. He's wearing what remains of a leather jacket and black t-shirt.

It's the mugger.

"So. Bud. That's your name, right?" a familiar voice says cheerily, and I clench my hands into fists.

"Y-Yeah…" the mugger replies. He's shaking.

"Know why you're here, Bud?" Joker's purple gloved hand sneaks into the camera's vision and patting the mugger on the shoulder companionably. "Go on, don't be shyyyy…"

The mugger bites his lip before he speaks. "No—no, I don't."

Joker gasps mockingly, and the camera shakes and bounces.

"No? No? Quite the speaker, aren't you? So…eloquent. Well, I guess you deserve to know why you're here, at least…"

Joker's hand clenches the mugger's shoulder tighter, and the mugger groans. I can't look away from the sight. Alfred looks equally disturbed.

"You're here, Bud, because…this is my little, ah, gift to Batman. For all the joy he's given me. I can't thank him enough, but…I think you'll do just fine."

The mugger screams in fear and pain as a loud pop echoes through the room.

"You see, Bud, the problem with Gotham is you think you've seen everything, and then someone else shows up. You got away from the Batman, somehow—dumb luck, I'm sure—and now you're here with me. Crazy world we live in, huh?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Alfred says, his voice trembling slightly as the mugger's screams grow louder. "I don't think I can stomach this."

"I can't either," I say, preparing to turn off the TV.

But before I can, the camera instead turns to Joker. His eyes are bright, almost burning the camera in their intensity. His grin is an eerie combination of maliciousness and childish glee.

"Look, Batsy," Joker says, and his voice brings to mind my days as a child showing Father my scribblings. "I've caught your man! Aren't you thrilled? 'Course, I know you're not—not on the outside."

Joker's expression suddenly turns serious, and the camera shudders almost in response.

"But that's okay. That's…perfectly…okay."

My body grows cold as he continues:

"Oh, and Gotham? Don't you worry. I've learned a valuable lesson from last time—you don't have to blow things up to prove your point, no matter how much fun that is. No, all I'm doing things on a…smaller scale. But audience participation is…encouraged."

The camera whips back to focus on the mugger, who is crying silently.

"Speaking of…tell Batman you're sorry."

The mugger whines.

"Aww, now, don't be like that. That's just rude. Come on. Say it."

The mugger shies away from Joker's hands. He shakily turns toward the camera.

"Someone…please…"

Joker's hand slowly reaches out and touches his cheek, and I can hear what sounds like classical musicin the background.

"Sssh-sssh-sssh. Don't worry, it's gonna be over soon. Promise. Just take a deep breath, Bud, and—"

The mugger flinches away from Joker's touch, and there is an audible slap.

"I've only got so much patience, Buddy. SAY IT."

Joker's tone is one I'm too familiar with: the fun is over, and now…

"Help—Batman—help, please!"

"Say goodbye to Gotham, Buddy."

The film is lost to static.